First come, first served
by MaMaMaMyPatronus
Summary: While WonWon and LavLav thrash like eels in the Griffindor common room, Hermione visits Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes looking for revenge. ** Short chapters, please R&R **
1. Men!

"Is someone coming to serve me or should I just help myself?"

Hermione Granger rapped her wand against the counter of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and let out an irritated sigh. She could see other customers turning to see who the crazy lady was. Let them. One little boy with curly blond hair and a hand in amongst the Pygmy Puffs was foolish enough to give her a smile. She glared daggers at him. He jumped, turned red and then, when a Pygmy Puff bit him, started to cry. She rolled her eyes. They were pathetic, all of them, even the little ones. Men!

"George?" she called out. "Fred? Is no one here? Shall I just take what I want then?"

The two brothers rounded opposite ends of the same aisle at precisely the same time and walked towards her grinning identical grins, arms outstretched.

"Good to see you, Hermione," said George. "In a bit of a hurry?"

"Run out of Patented Daydreams?" suggested Fred cheekily.

Hermione pursed her lips and made no reply. She didn't have time for their stupid jokes. As the twins drew closer their smiles faded anyway. Hermione knew why. She was pale. Her hair, always bushy, today had a life of it's own. Her brown curls crackled and writhed. Her eyes were very dark and very bright.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" George asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

"Shouldn't _I_ be at school?" Hermione said bitingly.

Fred shot a warning glance at George.

"Alright, it's not a social call," Fred said. "That's fine. Tell us what you need. Anything for you, Hermione. You're like family."

Fred obviously thought he was turning on the Weasley charm. Ha! Little did he know, Hermione was now immune. She drew herself up to her full height and narrowed her glittering eyes.

"I've got my own family, thank you very much," she said. "Meanwhile, _your_ brother is an utter prat. I'm here for revenge."


	2. Verity

Just at that moment, a tall, whip-thin young woman came barrelling down the stairs from the storeroom with an armful of Skiving Snackboxes piled higher than the tip of her jelled, peroxide-whitened quiff. Her magenta robes fluttered open as she ran, revealing tight black jeans beneath.

"Mr Weasley?" she called, hurrying blindly towards the front counter. "Where d'you say you want these? Mr Weasley? Mr Weeeeeeeeeeasly?" Followed shortly by a collision-induced "Ooooufff!"

She had careened into Hermione, who, thrown abruptly forwards, now glared up at Fred and George from her hands and knees, with a Skiving Snackbox balanced like a jaunty beret atop her head.

"Verity!" said Fred.

"Not again!" said George.

"Oh God!" said the girl in the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes uniform, clapping a hand over her black-painted lips.

Supple as a Slinky beneath her billowing robes, she had managed to lose all the boxes but stay on her feet. From the look on her face, this was not a relief. She stared down at the fallen Hermione in dismay.

"Here, Hermione," said Fred, darting forward to retrieve the box from Hermione's head. "Let me help you – "

Hermione shoved his hand away and climbed unsteadily to her feet, clutching her wand in her fist. Now, in addition to flashing eyes and snaking hair, her face was bright red.

Verity crouched and began desperately gathering Skiving Snackboxes.

"I'm so sorry!" she said. "I've been clumsy all day. I'm not usually – I mean sometimes – but mostly – this isn't normal, is it? I mean, look at this mess. I'm such a _tosser_ today."

And she gestured at the merchandise scattered around her.

At precisely the same time, and for the most miniscule of mini-seconds, the left corner of Fred's mouth and the right corner of George's jerked outwards as though attached to a sharply pulled string. Then, clamping down on temptation, they both pursed their lips.

"Verity," said George.

"I'm sorry Mr Weasley!" said Verity. And, looking up beseechingly at Hermione, added: "Are you ok, Miss?"

"I will be," said Hermione, fingers convulsing around her wand. "Once I've had my revenge."

Verity gasped. Even George fumbled for his wand.

"Not on _you_," said Fred to Verity, before turning to his brother. "Not on _her_. Get a grip."

George put his wand back in his pocket.

"Right. Sorry. Got carried away. Still," he said. "Might be safer…" And he jerked his head in the direction of the far end of the store.

"Good point," said Fred.

Verity arose trembling, like Aphrodite from the ocean. Unlike Aphrodite, her arms were full of Skiving Snackboxes.

"Verity, be a love and take those to aisle five, would you?" said George.

"Of _course_, Mr Weasley. But that's not where – "

"Today it is," said Fred, adding the Skiving Snackbox he had retrieved from Hermione's head to the pile that once again teetered higher than Verity's quiff. "Off you go."

He patted Verity on the back as she went.

Then, both twins dusted off their palms and smiled brightly at Hermione.

"What have you got to be so cheerful about?" Hermione asked. "You're saddled with an idiot of a brother."

"You don't mean Fred?" said a horrified George.

'Of course not," snapped Hermione.

"Well, you couldn't mean George?"

Hermione ground her teeth.

"No," she said. "I couldn't."

"Then if you don't mind my asking," said Fred, "What is it exactly that Charlie's gone and done?"

Hermione sucked in her breath.

"Fred," said George. "Don't be ridiculous. Charlie's all the way off in Romania. If Hermione's cross at any of us it'd have to be Bill."

Instead of replying, Hermione gave a flick of her wand and muttered something under her breath. A small flock of yellow birds appeared and began to circle her head, sweetly twittering.

Fred looked at George and George looked at Fred.

"That's not so bad," said George.

"I expected worse," said Fred.

"That's what Ron thought," said Hermione.


End file.
